RP:A Dryad's Aid
Part of the Chasing Lightning Arc
Part of the An Ascending Dryad Arc
Frozen Hunting Grounds
Satoshi stands upon the threshold into Frostmaw's wilds, still within easy sight of the gates and their guards but distant enough from the snowbound city to leave most of its sounds behind. For the better part of the evening the kit has stood here, a tiny, solitary figure unmoving beneath wind and frost--save for the quartet of tails that eternally dance to their own musics. By now the guards are used to their Lady's habit of placing herself on the city's borders and spending hours on end staring fixatedly into the distance. She's done this frequently since her final, near fatal, clash with the wraith Bozrah, and most presume it's Satoshi's attempt to avoid another arcane threat nearing Frostmaw. It's truth, in part, although the more accurate reason is that this spot, where she'd faced death, torment, and finally victory, where her soul had been twisted, burned, and scarred permenantly, where Bozrah's corruption sits as a blackened puddle in the snow, is a place of solace. It's here Satoshi is most attuned to the ice and snow of Frostmaw, the element's song ringing clearest and resonating with her essence done to her own frigid core. Plus, when you're as vain a creature as Satoshi, standing before the City of War, windswept and snowclad, as the solitary ward against unknown threats tends to make you look just a teensy bit dramatic. The kit has such a love for the dramatic.
Madigan has never before treaded into the depths of Frostmaw - never explored its snowy terrain. Today, she had a reason for finally coming to the frozen place; she was seeking gold. As a dryad, temperature didn't affect her the way it affected most other creatures, and lacking the gold she needed to clothe herself for such temperatures, she opted to carry several canteens of water in her bag to keep herself hydrated as she trudged slowly, stiffly through the snow. She didn't feel cold, exactly, but the dry, crisp winds sucked the water out of her easily, forcing her to drink lots and lots of water to keep hydrated. Recalling her conversation with the all-too-amicable Ranok, she now had two things to search for: gold and a dragon's nest. She probably wasn't going to find the dragon's egg here but while she's trying to collect gold, she can definitely ask around to find out where she can find a dragon's nest. Madigan heaved a sigh, starting to feel like the snow was running on endlessly. She was starting to get bored when she spotted a frozen silhouette up ahead. Her stiff legs continue forward through the thick snow...
Ezekiel had taken a gradual interest in the frozen slopes of Frostmaw, more so now then ever. Having finally wandered far enough past the border, and the remains of the battlefield, he found himself making a second trip back, this time with a backpack of tools slung over his shoulders. The tinkering mage had found a ruin of old, broken war machines, and wanted a closer look; supplied with tools, and enough provisions to last a day or two at best, he set out once more. Not too far in the wake of the dryad's footsteps, he kept a cautious eye, and an alert ear ready, should he find just who made these tracks.
Satoshi's whiskers give the faintest of twitches, reacting to the pulses of song delivered to her through the snows. Footsteps. Two sets. Distant, unhurried, unfamiliar. Travelers or hunters determined to try their luck in Frostmaw's hostile forests, most likely. In time enough she'll know, as both sets feel as if they're heading in her general direction. It isn't footsteps in the snow that causes her whiskers to twitch again, however, but instead a high-pitched screech. The sound comes from far above the city in a harsh eagle's voice that screams defiance to the winds. Vulpine ears swivel to take in the cry as the foxkin frowns, recognizing the voice as that of a Frost Gryphon. As the screeches grow closer they're accompanied by the beating of heavy wings and the jangle of leather and metal tack before, with a shuddering woosh the beast plummets from the skies, a rushed hop and skip required to avoid crash landing directly behind Satoshi. As the flurry of snow his descent caused subsides, the young Gryphon rears its head back and begins preen itself, trying in vain to set right his many ruffled feathers. Frowning at the creature's unhappy grumblings, Satoshi steps forward to assist him, voice low and cautious as she asks, "Where's Redovian..?" The gryphon prrruums unhappily, crest pressed flat against his head as he nuzzles his beak into the foxkin's chest.
Madigan hears a distant screech, greatly muffled by the cold. Being one of more temperate climates, she didn't know the screech was actually closer to her than it sounded. The cold has a way of making everything seem much farther away than it is. So, Madigan assumed she was safe from harm from whatever was screeching in the distance, but as the thought occurs to her, she sees the creature land near the silhouetted figure. Now closer, Madigan could make out several tails extending from the silhouette's back and she can make out the sex of the silhouette, too. It'd be lucky if this was the person she needed to see about working.
Ezekiel heard the screech, but simply wrote it off as an eagle; he was partly correct. Like a fool, he kept his head down, but his senses (as best he could) alert. As much as he tried however, he wouldn't catch sight of either, let alone scent and sound- as adept and in tune with the surroundings as they were. Trudging noisily and clumsily, Ezekiel continued onwards, no within ear shot. Too bad his were muffled with earmuffs- it was bloody cold.
Satoshi consoles the miserable gryphon as best she can, although the task threatens to result in her being knocked into the snow, for the youthful creature isn't fully aware of the size difference between them and insists on nuzzling closer in search of comfort. "Easy, you silly brute, easy~," Satoshi chides, affectionately tugging on one of the hybrid's tufted ears to ease its head back. With a snort, the gryphon lefts its head in the direction of the approaching footsteps, keen eagle eyes spotting the small figure growing nearer. Protective and fierce as the gryphon is, it naturally steps between the stranger and Satoshi, upper body hunkered down with wings flared, while its snow leopard lower body tenses in case a pounce is required. Oi! Let's not try and ki-" The gryphon's swishing tail smacks Satoshi across the face, halting her words as she flails in protest.
Madigan stops abruptly at the sight of the gryphon and wraps an arm around Castanops protectively. He hoots agitatedly as he's awoken from his sleep, but realizes the threat and expands his wings as big as he can while ruffling his feathers in a threat display. "Stop, Castanops," Madigan mutters to him, her eyes not moving from the gryphon. Castanops, being his own self, doesn't heed Madigan and continues to stare down the gryphon while hooting and hissing angrily.
Ezekiel eventually looked up, saw the scene, and simply changed his direction. Instead of walking right at the strangers and their animal friends, he'd take a direct 90 degree turn, and start towards the left. In time, he'd arc in a large half circle around them, eventually finding the other end of his broken path. "Evening." Given his past experiences with the areas wildlife, he didn't dare chance his luck with this beast(s)?
Satoshi is very quickly becoming fed up with a face full of gryphon tail. A fact which leads to her scrambling onto the brute's back and driving the brunt of her weight into the back of his head. Being small and light as she is, the kit can't exactly injure the gryphon this way, but it's abrupt enough to startle him and send him faceplanting into the snow with a squawk of alarm. Leaving the creature to right itself, soothing injured pride, and settle disheveled feathers, Satoshi dusts herself and looks toward the woman and owl, a curious expression on her face at the sight. "Well now, you're one brave owl, to try staring down a Frost Gryphon~," the kit trills, clearly impressed and obviously amused. The same can't be said for the fellow that's giving them all a wide berth, although she can't begrudge someone for being wary. Wary keeps you alive out here. "Evenin' to you as well."
Castanops retracts his wings, his feathers remaining ruffled. The chestnut-colored owl had one hell of a foolish sense of confidence in himself, that was for sure. "Hi there," Madigan responds to the four-tailed kit, a hesitant, stiff (from the cold) smile on her face. "I'm looking for whoever responded to this," she says as she pulls out a tiny piece of paper out of her bag and hands it over. It contains a poorly written message asking for work and the word 'Frostmaw' scrawled underneath the message with the drawing of a snowflake beside it. She watches the guy walking away from them, wondering where he plans to go. She doesn't realize he's moving to avoid the gryphon and them.
Ezekiel was in fact, moving to avoid them, and that he did. Clear on the other side of the duo, he'd press on further into the frozen lands.
Ezekiel exits west.
Satoshi, still trying to ignore the grumblings of a disgruntled gryphon, leans forward to peer at the slip of paper the stranger holds. "Ah! I thought I recognized your feathery friend~," the magus exclaims as she withdraws to rock back on her heels, all grins and amusement. "That'd be moi. Et that makes you Madigan, yes? Still looking for work, I assume, else you likely wouldn't be trudging so far out here~." While the cold does no harm to Satoshi--in fact, without it, she'd be miserable--she's well aware of its effect on others, especially when underdressed and in Hollow's most ruthless environment. Made curious by the conversation and lack of hostilities, the gryphon peers over Satoshi's shoulder to inspect Madigan, owl, and paper with intelligent eyes. A questioning chirrup bubbles up from deep in his throat.
Madigan stares curiously at the gryphon, wondering if anyone has ever ridden on its back, but she decides it's best not to ask. Instead, she turns her jungle-green eyes to the kit and nods, confirming that yes, she is Madigan and yes, she is still looking for work. From her bag, she pulls out a canteen and takes a small sip, half the canteen emptying out because of a root-like physiology. Not that it made a difference to her. After over a hundred years of interacting with the world with your own body, you should be used to its functions. Madigan glances up at Castanops and smirks crookedly at the sight of his head stuffed as close to his body as possible. He looks stiff, cold, and uncomfortable. She strokes him to try to create some warmth, but she knows it does little for him.
Satoshi doesn't miss the gesture and owl's discomfort, not when the signs are so obvious. Under the pretense of shuffling her stance into something more comfortable, the kit shifts sideways and gives an elbow nudge to the gryphon, directing his hovering away from behind her and instead nearer girl and owl, where his body heat and large, wind-blocking frame may be more welcomed. In the same instant, Satoshi half-sings a near inaudible string of words, a simple melody to coax the air's chill toward herself where it can be absorbed into the mist-woven cloak about her shoulders--and take the worst of the cold's bite away from Madigan. It certainly doesn't compare to sitting before a warm fire, but some relief is better than none when you're going to have a conversation out in the snow. "Well, you're still looking for work, and I'm still looking for adventurers and the like. So I suppose first off... Are you familiar with the lands around Venturil, Craughmoyle, or Gamorg at all? And what sort of skills do you possess?"
Madigan sighs inwardly in relief as the biting cold lessens. Castanops doesn't budge from his position, but Madigan knows he's as relieved as she. She shakes her head as she says, "I'm not familiar with any of those places; I'd need a really detailed map or a really good guide to get me through those places." She strokes Castanops again, but this time as an instinctive gesture of love and affection toward the owl as she continues, "As for my skills, I specialize in fungi: if the fungus can heal, hinder, paralyze, or kill, then I can, too. I can manipulate roots and vines, and I have the charm and seduction of any other dryad." She smiles playfully at the last part. Realizing something, she fishes into her bag and pulls out what looks like a flake of fungus and breaks off a tiny piece to feed to Castanops and eats a piece herself. It's bitter and unsavory, but it creates a sense of warmth in the body by raising temperatures. If someone ate too much of it, though, it'd feel like their insides were burning.
Satoshi doesn't recognize the fungus being eaten, but then she's never been an expert on any sort of plantlife. Causing their untimely deaths, she's good at--usually unintentional. Hell, she's under the impression Frostmaw's plants didn't curl up and die when she became ruler simply because they're as stupidly stubborn as she is. Nonetheless, she's curious, especially now that she knows it's a dryad she's speaking to, one of the races the foxkin has a fair degree of fondness and interest in. "What does that do? I don't think I've seen the likes of it before."
Madigan hands a piece to the kit so that she may get a closer look at it. "'Haelfeeir', or in common tongue, 'Hellfire'. In small doses, it's warming. In large doses, it feels like fire burning you from the inside. It's excruciatingly painful and crippling, but only temporarily. The only scar Haelfeeir can give someone is a scarring memory of the experience. Unless it gets in your eyes, then it can cause permanent blindness and days of pain. You can't cry it out."
Satoshi turns the flake over in her hand while peering at it closely. "Hellfire... Interesting. We've something slightly similar in Frostmaw, I think. Certain needles from one of our Winter trees produce warmth when chewed. Our tavern keeper uses them in a brew that foreigners are fond of for removing the chill from their bones." Handing the fungus back to Madigan--because even if she could eat anything but blood, the cryomancer would have to be insane to eat something that creates heat from within. "Knowing about those sort of things is a useful skill, no doubt. Not knowing about the three regions I mentioned is easily remedied, plus I intend to have a guide of sorts of those being paid to delve where needed. Basically, I'm looking for two types of ore, and an uncommon production of amber, that can only be found in those places. In Gamorg, the city of ogres, they dig up ghroundium, a highly dense metal unique to the area. The dwarven lands of Craughmoyle harbor veins of the metals needed to produce Mithril, and where their borders meet Venturil's is a small area of petrified trees. I've been told the purest forms of amber can be found there, some of which I require badly."
Madigan listens intently to everything to kit tells her, grasping onto every word to make sure she remembers everything she needs to about the places and what she needs to find. She replaces the fungus in her bag and nods at every word. "Should I be wary of anything when I seek these things out for you?" Castanops' eyelids close as if he's falling asleep but then open up immediately, no sign of sleepiness on his face. Maybe he was just blinking the cold out of his eyes. "Who will be my guide?" she questions, though what she's really asking is what are their skills and can she rely on them to keep her safe if things go awry.
Satoshi rocks back on her heels as she thinks over Madigan's questions. "You should always be wary, but most especially if you go into any of those places. I have heard Gamorg's mines are home to a peculiar air that causes insanity and bloodlust in those that breathe it. Supposedly the symptoms clear once you leave the area, but I've yet to venture there to test it myself. Venturil's wilds are full of warped beasts and rampant evils. I've been warned by Queen Thea herself that numerous dangers lurk just beneath the surface there, and that one should tread with extreme caution. Craughmoyle is as old as the mountains, and thus naturally harbors any variety of creatures, but it is also the most tamed of the three areas, and least dangerous, if that's what you prefer. ...Their old caverns might have some interesting new fungi for you as well, now that I think about it." Golden eyes watch the kit's casual rocking, the gryphon momentarily quieted by the conversation, "As for guides, I'm attempting to see about a pair of terramancers that might be up for the task: Dami and Kirien. They're members of the same House as myself, I'd trust them with my life. But if they're unable, there are others I can send to assist and protect."
Madigan nods again, appreciative of the information given to her. "I'll go as soon as a guide is ready to take me," she replies. She looks around into the haze of a frozen terrain - not much can be seen far off into the distance, but then, maybe that's because there's nothing to see to begin with. Madigan inhales deeply and lets her breath out slowly, her lungs burning slightly. She frowns at the sensation, wondering why her lungs would burn if she breathes CO2. The altitude might be getting to her, but before she leaves, she has one more thing to ask. "Do you know where I can find a dragon's nest?" she asks from what seems like out of nowhere.
Satoshi's ears perk forward involuntarily at the question and she looks slightly taken off guard. "A dragon's nest? What breed of dragon? What for? I know of many and then some, admittedly, but it isn't information I share in idle conversation. They're dangerous beings for one, and fiercely protective of their eggs and young. For good reason too, as most folks that go looking for a dragon's nest have the intention of stealing or killing." The kit leans closer to Madigan here as if peering at her will determine which of the two the dryad intends. She's hardly one to talk, considering she's swiped her fair share of eggs, and slain a number of dragons--although those were typically self-defense or exterminating an unruly Feral. "Depending on what type of nest you seek, and what reason, I might be able to help you. ...Or reward you with more than gold for the job you're agreeing to, eh~?"
Madigan smiles, reluctant to divulge such information, but if she really wants answers, then she has to reveal such things. "A man by the name of Ranok - maybe you know him, Ranok of Rynvale? - he's looking for fliers and I intend to become one. I don't want to cause harm to any dragon that doesn't deserve it, though... I'm looking for a dragon that doesn't breathe fire... for obvious reasons," she grins crookedly. "I'm looking for gem dragons," she finishes.
Satoshi frowns, not at Madigan's mention of looking for dragons, but at the mention of the blacksmith. "I know Ranok, oui. I'm not sure why he didn't send you to me in the first place, however, as I'm the reason Rynvale has any flyers at present. I'm the deputy Commander of the Eyrie, after all. Partnering folks with creatures of the sky is what we do." To emphasize her words she gives the lingering gryphon an affectionate pat, jangling the sleek leather riding harness he wears. "Finding the right teammate to pair one another with is our main goal, and getting them in the air together, where they combine their abilities to benefit one another. ...I don't believe we have any orphaned gem eggs at the moment, however. Tell you what, though. I'll keep my ear out and see if any are about. If I'm able, we can see if it isn't a suitable part of payment for you?"
Madigan lowers her eyes, agitation clearly felt within her, at the mention of Ranok. Clearly, she's bumped heads with the stubborn man. She purses her lips in disappointment about the lack of gem eggs, but nods reluctantly. "I'd appreciate that." She glances off into the distance once more. Anything to prove she's capable to the hardheaded man. Damn him and his stubbornness, doubting her resolve just because she's a small dryad.
Satoshi offers the dryad a lopsided smile. "I've never known a treeling to freely do harm to another living creature, so I don't imagine entrusting you with an egg is a fatal error. Your kind are safer bets than most others. ...Also," the kit leans closer to add in a whisper, "if it's a Gem you seek, remember what I said about the mountains of Craughmoyle being home to ancient, cavernous creatures. And if you find yourself with more saurian trouble on your hands than you can handle, find moi. I've looked after my fair share of hatchlings. The Eyrie's doors are always open to help those bonded to a creature of the skies."
Madigan grins in relief at the kit's words. "Thanks for everything," the excitement radiates from her green eyes; the red firelily in her hair seems to glow with her eyes. "I'll keep that in mind," she bows her head. "I didn't catch your name, though. Who are you?"
Satoshi dips into a bow coupled with a sweeping flourish of the arm. "Satoshi Azakhaer, magus of ice and Queen of Frostmaw." An eagle's eager scream comes from the gryphon then as he proudly thrusts out his chest. The kit chuckles, patting his feathers and trying to mask the shadow that enters her expression. "This fine fellow doesn't yet have a name. He and his partner are still getting to know one another."
Madigan giggles and grins at the gryphon, delighted to see its personality. Madigan's eyes meet Satoshi's and she bows her head once more as she says, "Your Grace," - a half-genuine formality. "It was wonderful meeting you, Queen Satoshi. I hope to see you again, and hopefully, by then, I'll have a gem dragon's egg." She smiles a dazzling smile before saying her goodbyes and heading back the way she'd come.
Satoshi salutes the dryad as she departs, the gryphon outstretching his wings in his own version of a goodbye. "Farewell until then, lady treeling~." Once Madigan has left, the kit resumes her vigil, this time with a fellow Frostmawian creature for company while they two of them mull over Redovian's disappearance.